


Repercussion

by SerahSanguine



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s01e02 Deep Throat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 21:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahSanguine/pseuds/SerahSanguine
Summary: Prompt: Mulder dealing with the aftermath of his kidnapping.  Physical symptoms? How did it affect his and Scully’s relationship?





	Repercussion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [settledownfrohike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/settledownfrohike/gifts).

> Thank you Laia for beta reading for me

Hello. My name is Fox Mulder. No one will ever read this document once it is finished. But in writing this, it will apparently help me either to remember or help me deal with what has happened to me; according to my therapist, that is. In all honesty, this idea seems ridiculous and I feel very stupid writing this. But I had a go at it, anyway. Why, may you ask. Well, I have a couple of reasons, one of them being the nightmares that have incurred from this ordeal. Now, don’t get me wrong, nightmares are not that strange for me. Insomnia is not new either, I have had it since I was a teenager. What is scaring the shit out of me is what is occurring in my dreams. 

The psychologist in me is saying the dreams are my brain trying to process what has happened to me in the days I was missing. I'm writing this as I'm trying to remember my repressed memories.

It started like any ordinary case (well, we have only had one case before, me and Scully, that is. It was in Oregon and Scully thought I was absolutely crazy 3⁄4 of the case.) I met Scully at the bar I liked, I suspected the office was bugged, it often is. I told her about the colonel and how his wife hadn't seen nor heard from him in 4 months after his psychotic break. The military would not comment on the situation. Naturally, dear Scully was skeptical, so I told her about the six men who were missing in action since 1963 from Ellens Air Base. The Colonel's wife had reported it to the FBI as a kidnapping and yet the case got shelved without even a second glance. 

Some time later in that same bar I met a man that tried to warn me that the military would not tolerate an FBI investigation. He would not tell me his name neither who he worked for simply saying ‘Names aren't important neither is who I work for’. He said he was simply there to give ‘advice’, to drop the case because I was exposing myself and Agent Scully to unnecessary risk. As usual I chose to ignore him. Boy, oh boy, what a mistake that was. 

A day later we were on the flight to Idaho and I distinctly remember Scully holding the arm rest for dear life, just like every flight we have been on together. I’m going off track here… 

Anyway we arrived at the wife's home and she explained some of her husband's psychotic episodes. There was even one about eating fish food. We found out that his wife never knew about his military work. They were both very loyal to the country. We found out a couple of her neighbours were also test pilots. So we questentiond them but they weren't much help. 

We later discussed what information we had gathered and she tried passing it off as a medical problem to which I can not remember the name off. After that we spent the remainder of the day quite literally running into brick walls and white glass front doors, up until that night. 

That night we stalked the fence on the outskirts of the base. Scully had fallen asleep so I slipped out. I passed a whole in the fence and waited. Then suddenly a bright light appeared in the sky, I watched for a while to make sure it wasn't my imagination, and I ran to Scully, waking her up so she could watch the lights too. We stared into the dark night and watched as these two lights danced together in harmony, it was beautiful to watch. She agreed they weren't military airplanes but denied they were of alien nature. By definition alone they were ufo though she wouldn't admit that. Soon were were interrupted when the lights went out and one came towards us. We soon realised it was a helicopter. We ran towards the car, stopping momentarily as two stupid kids started to come in our direction. We grabbed them and hide. As soon as it was calm again, we put their scooter in the car and drove off as fast as we could.

My heart was racing, bouncing out of its chest. I looked over at Scully and could see she was out of breath too. I still don't trust her completely, but that trust is growing day by day. I honestly don’t know what this relationship will turn into. If anything, my search for Samantha is what I need to focus on. She will only serve as a distraction, admittedly a beautiful one, but a distraction nonetheless. 

We took the teenagersout off harms way and to the nearest diner to get something to eat. I asked them about the photos I had, they confirmed what I suspected. But, damn, they were stoned. They both made me and Scully laugh quite a few times with what they were saying. See? Her smile is a beautiful sight, her eyes light up and honestly she brightens the whole room up. 

We dropped the kids off, by then it was mid morning. I was tired and actually needed some sleep. That’s when Scully so delightfully informand me she was still very much a skeptic. No matter what stories or pictures I had as proof to the contrary. She is definitely going to be a challenge. 

We somehow got back to the motel and I think I even got a few hours of sleep. I had been up about 30 minutes, about to go over the case again, when Scully came running towards my room to inform me that Mrs Budahas had rung her telling us that her husband had returned. So we both got in the car and drove like a bat out of hell. We found her hysterical, and very determined that the man who had been returned to her was certainly not her husband even though he stood in front of us in the flesh. To rule out certain theories I asked a series of questions. My first one being, where had he been? He simply replied with:

“I have been in a hospital. 

Just as simple as that. I asked for his date of birth to which he told me the correct answer. I asked him for his kids' names and he told me again. He even gave me some sarcasm to both. I asked him one final question and for a pilot it should have been such an easy question for him to answer, it should come second nature. But he simply could not answer, not for lack of trying, he couldn't remember. We tried to calm both husband and wife down, but leaving we had little luck. I went into that house with so many theories and came out of one clear one: what is called ‘selective memory loss’. Now us merw humans don’t have the technology on our own, but we do if we farm parts from the UFO that landed in Roswell. And I was sure that was what happened there. 

From this point on, I wish I would have left everything well enough alone, because I become so into trouble with that little process. But we will get to that later.

Me and Scully were driving to get something to eat. I was really looking forward to the cherry pie. Two cars started coming towards us and even tried to run us off the roads The Govement's 'Men in Black’. They stopped us, searched us and, like good old boys in black, destroyed all the evidence we had. They even kindly escorted us back to our motel with the instruction to pack and leave as soon as possible. And, damn, I really wanted that Frickin' Cherry Pie. 

When we arrived, we automatically went into Scully’s room. She headed straight for the phone to check the plates of the two cars and, surprise, surprise, they were bogus. Why did she expect anything different? She's too green. We talked about what should happen next, she said we should leave and I disagreed like I always do. 

I lied to her that night, it wasn’t the first time and certainly won't be the last. It was to protect her from my stupid actions and this way I would be the only one who had to deal with the consequences. I grabbed our car keys without her looking and left her room, driving to the kid's home. They were still stoned, which I kind of expected. The house was a thick wall of smoke. But, give them something they, were in love; and didn’t have a care in the world.

They agreed to take me back and even tell me where to go and where to avoid, not that I paid much attention. So they got me pass the fence and promised to wait for me. I just wished they had mentioned the minefield. Thankfully I managed to avoid it. 

And that, Ladies and Gentleman, is all I remember clearly.

In my dreams, I suppose you could say I remember aspects of my missing time, it all a jumble. I don’t know what is real and what has been put there by _ them _. The images come in flashes: standing on the tarmac with a bright white light hovering over me, flashing lines, long cordes, hidden objects, monkeys screeching, dark rooms with sounds from large speakers piercing my ears and making them bleed. Men taking me, drugging me, testing me. Tests which you can never imagine. I wake up screaming so much that my throat feels like sandpaper, scratching and swollen. My skin tacky and cold, wet with cold sweat. 

Once we were free, clear out of Iowa and back on DC soil, Scully made sure everything was ok. Apparently she had a quick look and did what she could. She told me I had three broken ribs on the right side and was badly bruised on the left side. She comes by daily and brings me the most amazing home cooked dinners. She says I don't eat enough. And she doesn't consider my _ amazing _ microwave meals actual food, which is what I have been eating a lot of since I have been in the FBI. 

She once let slip that the meals were from her mom, and Scully doesn’t talk about family all that often. She doesn’t let me see behind the walls of professionalism that she has built. But one thing is for certain: there is definitely a kind-hearted woman behind that icy exterior. 

I haven’t told her about my dreams, she would only worry more, to which I can understand. Most of what happened on that case has come back to me now apart from the missing hours. At the time I remembered nothing apart from Scully’s name. They left me a disoriented mess. Battered and bruised in that moment, I trusted her to help me, to heal me in both body and mind. 

I have learnt to trust her more than anybody in recent years (apart from the Lone Gunmen). I would not say 100%, but a clean 80% maybe, and for me that’s a lot of trust. Because in this shit of a world I have learnt to trust no one. 

I’ll see my therapist again in a couple of days, and we’ll see if in writing this document anything has happened. I guess I’m just going to have to wait and see. I really should be getting this stupid thing wrapped up now. I’ve just looked over at the clock and it’s 2 am. And even though I still haven't got my memory back, Scully says im fine physically and that I can return back to work but only if I’m stuck behind the desk for a little while. When she gave me the news I would have giving her anything, anything is better than staring at these 4 walls. These past couple of weeks have been driving me crazy. 

I have to be up in about four hours and if I’m lucky I will possibly get a good two in before getting up for work. So goodnight stupid writing assignment, I will shred you in the morning.

_ Yours sincerely _

_ Fox Mulder _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Please review good or bad  
It's always appreciated :)


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